


Why is it so cold?

by princessvicky01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Haven (Dragon Age), Pre-Relationship, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:25:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9899129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessvicky01/pseuds/princessvicky01
Summary: One off Cullen POV fan fic:  Pre Cullen X Annabel Trevelyan relationshipSFW, fluff, mild angst, romance, and light comedy all in one!Haven has fallen, the Herald has made it to the camp but is riddled with fever. Cullen watches over her as she rests, but as the fever takes hold he gets a glimpse of her past and his own feelings in the process.(Based on an idea from the wonderful @blue-moon-magic on tumblr)





	

The wind is cold and bitter. It whips through layers to chill everyone to the bone as it has done relentlessly for days. Standing with one hand resting on his sword hilt Cullen withstands another blast which stings his ears and bites at his nose. Despite how frozen and weary he feels, his lips twitch in a tiny smile at the scene before him.

The Herald of Andraste was here, in a make shift bed, being cared for by the revered mother and people he considered friends. They had made it out of Haven, she, had made it out of Haven.

“Cullen, can I have a word, please?” asks the Herald.

His attention snaps back and he nods stepping closer. “Of course.”

Annabel strains to sit up and apparently decides to rest propped up on her elbows instead, her face flushed with effort. “A word, alone?”

He feels a lump catch in his throat. What could she possibly have to say to him that the others couldn’t hear? Dumbfounded he nods. “Erm, yes, of course.”

The advisors and Mother Gisele exchange glances with each other, then him before reluctantly dispersing. Once seemingly out of ear shot Annabel looks up at him.

“I’m tired,” she states begrudgingly her gaze dropping. Puzzled he finds himself frowning in response. He thought that much was obvious? She’d survived meeting their enemy, and his ‘dragon’, fallen down a mountain, trudged through the snow and collapsed at their camp. And yet she was reluctant to admit she was tired?

“You’re going to think I’m weak, or childish but…Will you stay with me? Stay up with me…Not leave I mean?”

He can feel her bright eyes searching his and can almost see a glitter of hope in them. However, he’s still slightly taken a back, surely Mother Gisele or a healer would be a more suitable option? 

He’s about to voice his opinion but is drawn to whatever glimmers in those eyes. How could he refuse such a simple request, when she had done so much? Been through so much. “Erm…of course…” 

“Thank you,” she sighs collapsing back. Clearly the potent medication the healer has given is starting to take effect as her eyes struggle to remain open and her head sloshes to one side. “It’s silly, I know…” she yawns. “I’m sorry, I don’t want you to feel you have to, but…” Dragging her eyes open she looks back up at him.

“It’s fine, my lady,” Cullen nods and decides to sit. It was going to be a long night, but at least she was here, she was safe and so were a great deal many more than he’d even hoped for.

She snorts a derogatory laugh at him. “How many times?…It’s just Annabel…”

A half smirk plays on his lips as he leans forward. There is no ‘just’ about her. He goes to reply but she’s already fallen asleep, head resting to face him with pale lips slightly parted. He notes that this is the most peaceful he’s ever seen her. She’s normally glowing with energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet, radiating warmth and humour, greeting him with the widest smile he’s ever known…

For her to even ask him to stay is distinctly out of character, she always had such a carefree manner, to see her worried is disturbing.

Disturbing but not unwarranted. The healers had done their best and she was under the influence of every healing herb they had but still he had been warned that a fever ran deep. There was a chance it would take hold, worsen in the night, a chance they might lose her still.

Perching by her side he did his best to not contemplate that, even though it gnawed at the back of his mind. She was so bright, illumining everything and everyone around her. To lose her…no he mustn’t dwell on such things. She was a fighter, a warrior, a survivor, she would be fine, whatever fire burned inside was too brazen to be extinguished by the cold.

 

Covered in a film of sweat Annabel awoke and huffed, tossed and promptly attempted to sit up. Cullen stirred from his doze as she slumped back onto her damp pillow with hair clinging to her face and concern to his. 

When she tossed her again, growing fretful, he placed a cold cloth to her forehead as he’d been instructed. He still wasn’t sure why she’d insisted he’d stay, he’d looked after his fair share of ill comrades over the years but was not qualified to provide any actual help. Thankfully Mother Gisele slept close by and her presence reassured him as he softly mopped the sweat from Annabel’s brow.

“Bryan?” Annabel’s voice was soft, almost lost on the wind but he caught it.

“Hm? No…you’re sleeping,” he replies gently taking away the cloth that had disturbed her.

“Like Mother?”

He furrows his brows. “Erm…I don’t…” he looks around. Did she mean the revered mother? It’s late and everyone is fast asleep, other than some distant snoring the camp is deathly quiet. Was it the fever talking? “Get some rest,” he whispers giving her arm a little squeeze then withdrawing.

“Don’t leave,” her face scrunches in distress and he returns his hand.

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Mother promised too…” she said distantly.

“I…I’m sorry, you’re not making any sense,” he said, eyes searching her features for an explanation.

“Bryan, why is it so cold?”

Cullen gave a heavy sigh, she was clearly delirious and he was at a loss for how he should respond. The way she spoke, with the innocence of a child, made him wonder just where and when she thought she was. And he had no idea who this ‘Bryan’ was either.

He offered the only thing he could think which might help warm her, removing his own cloak despite the frigid air, he lay it over her. Carefully he tucked the furs up around her chin.

“Mother always lit the hearth…I don’t think father knows, he’s too sad…” her voice is quiet and pondering.

“Annabel…I don’t…I’m sorry,” he flusters.

“Will it be cold where Mother’s going? Is that why her skin was so cold?”

With a heavy heart he suddenly realises what she’s talking about. It seemed her mother must have passed away when she was young. He knew nothing of her family, save they were noble and fairly well respected, in fact he knew very little of her at all. He supposed it was only fair, after all, she knew nothing of him. “Shhh-“

“Don’t shh me Bryan,” she lashed out under the blankets. “Just because I’m little don’t mean I’m stupid. Tell me. Why is she so cold? Why won’t father come see us? Why is it so cold? Why…?”  

A few people grumbled and rolled over, but most seemed so weary that they drifted back off to sleep despite her commotion. Growing tired himself he replies. “It’s cold because we’re out side, I don’t know where your father is and your mother…I don’t know. Now rest.”

His voice, despite its almost military tone, seems to soothe her and she settles back. Resting her cheek against his fur trimmed cloak, he can see her eyes darting under closed lids, clearly re living a vivid dream. A deep pang of empathy fills him.

“Father forgot about us again didn’t he?” she asks her voice down trodden.

“Maker’s breath…” Cullen shock his head. “No… I’m sure he wouldn’t do that.”

“It’s ok…” she nuzzled into in his furs. “He’ll return someday, do you think he’ll bring mother back with him?”

Rubbing his face Cullen sighs heavily, deciding perhaps he should just ignore her, if he didn’t engage maybe she would slip back off into a deeper slumber?

“Why did she have to go?”

The question is truly pitiful, and even though she is snuggled asleep, her expression seemed lost. It tugs at his heart, to see her suffering, trapped in a painful dream, an old memory and he’s forced to look away.

“Bryan?” She asks with caution.

His amber eyes flick back to watch her carefully while he remains steadfast in his silence.

“Bryan?” She calls tossing to the side, searching for someone who isn’t there, she shouts the name again, her cry desperate. He hears a rumble of complaints from disturbed men and eases his hand on her forehead, his resolve at tough love already broken.

“It’s ok,” he murmurs softly.

“No, no its not, you said you wouldn’t leave, you said you’d stay! Why does no one stay?!” Shrill and demanding her voice pierces the still night air.

Maker, she is feisty even when asleep riddled with fever and thinking like a child. He had wondered if her fire had been an act, a front she put up to cope with the title of ‘Herald of Andraste’ but no…whatever ferocity she has inside runs through to her core. Determined, demanding and brutally honest. She didn’t hold back, wasn’t afraid to ask the hard questions or find out their answers.

“I didn’t leave…Annabel, it’s Cullen, Commander Cullen,” he tries to draw her back from where ever she has wondered in the Fade.

“C-u-l-l-e-n,” she said, as if hearing it for the first time.

“Yes, now go back to sleep,” he states leaning back in his seat to try to rest his straining eyes.

“I like him,” she adds. He opens his eyes a crack, checking if she was winding him up, as she so often did, but she still seemed to be fast asleep.

“He’s warm and kind…” she muses. “He thinks he can hide it…but I can see.”

A half smile creeps onto one corner of his lip and he sits forward slightly. He can’t deny he’s tempted to find out more but knows it’s wrong given the circumstances. “You need to rest,” he said softly.

“No…he needs to rest,” she replies her brows furrowing. “He works and worries too much…I don’t like it.”

He gives a light chuckle. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he replies, attempting to reassure her and falling into her pattern of speech.

“Good,” she mumbles. There is a long silence and finally he hunkers down hoping for some peace.

“Bryan? Do you think he likes me?”

Snapping awake his eyes jolt open. “I…err…” Even though she’s not awake he glances away, the openness of the question too bold for him to know how to answer.

“That’s a good question,” Leliana’s smooth voice states as she slips into view, dark blanket draped over her shoulders.

“Ah, Leliana…” he staggers to his feet, his muscles frozen stiff. When she raises a questioning eye brow at him he scowls. “This is not the time,” he grumbles then looks down to Annabel. “She thinks I’m someone else. A Bryan?”

Leliana folds her arms and appears to consider the name. “I cannot think of any of our officers with that name with any close connection.”

He shakes his head. “No…that’s not it…does she have a brother, perhaps?”

“Yes. An older brother, an heir…We wrote to the Bann as soon as she gave her name. Her brother replied, which was most peculiar in itself. He was less than impressed we had her in chains…but has since pledged the support of house Trevelyan. Yes, a Lord Bryan-”

“Yes,” Annabel exclaimed with a pitch of joy. “Bryan!”

They both look to her, half expecting her to be sat upright, but her body is still, with the trace of a smile on her lips.

“She thinks you’re him?” Leliana smirks. “She must be confused indeed. By all accounts he is a formidable man, alluding to threats even, if we did not keep her safe within the Inquisition.”

“Threats? Why wasn’t I told?” Cullen demands trying to keep his pitch low through worry about disturbing the Herald once more.

“They were empty threats, Commander,” she waves her hand dismissively.

“Commander?” Annabel echoes the title. “Commander Cullen?”

Cullen smiles, relieved, that she’s finally understanding. “Yes, Commander Cullen,” he breathes, hoping that will be the last time tonight he has to repeat his own name.

“He thinks I don’t notice,” she smiles and giggles lightly. “How he blushes when I catch him staring.”

A sly grin comes across Leliana’s lips. “Is that so?”

Annabel giggles again. “Umm hmm, his cheeks glow but I don’t mind, it’s rather cute, I like how-“

“Right, that’s enough,” he snaps. He would not have his, desires, as such, split out for all to hear. “She needs her rest, as do I, so if you don’t mind,” he gestures for Leliana to leave with a hard stare.

The spymaster challenges it for a second with one of equal measure before tipping her head. “Of course,” she turns to leave but hesitates. “Although think of what we could learn? About her, about the conclave?”

“No,” Cullen states flatly. “She is vulnerable, that would be taking advantage of a frightened child.”

Leliana stares questioningly at him.

“Never mind,” he waves her away and she languishes off back to bed.

 

Several quiet hours pass and eventually he dozes off only to be woken by a fitful bout of Annabel’s coughing. She sweat drenched and mumbling incoherent things about dragons. She has gone deathly pale and he feels a hard lump rush up to lodge in his throat.

Instinctively he’s on his feet and rolls her onto one side to ease the retching. Every breath she draws makes an audible wheeze from somewhere deep in her chest and his heart races. He moves to fetch Mother Gisele but she’s already rushing over. Various of the Herald’s companions are also up, looking over nervously through puffy eyes as Cullen backs away to allow the healers some space.

He watches helplessly for a few moments as she coughs so violently that she wakes half the camp. _Maker no_ , he finds himself begging, he’d fretted and worried endlessly about whether she was alive or dead…and now this. For her to be here, to have found her way against the odds, only to die in the cold grasp of the night?

He starts pacing and Cassandra is soon there to offer a calming arm on his shoulder. “Cullen, you’re freezing, you need to rest, come,” she states.

“No,” his answer is simple and absolute. “I said I would not leave her and I will not.”

“She is in safe hands, now come, warm yourself by the fire, just for a bit.”

Cassandra is right, he is freezing, his fresh sweat chilling against the icy winds which still drive across the land. Tempted by the warmth he glances to his friend, he’s about to agree when a bedraggled cry sounds out.

“Bryan!”

His focus returns to Annabel and at once he’s striding back to her. When he arrives, he finds her sobbing, tears soaking her face and chest heaving with the effort.

“It’s ok,” he grabs her hand which has come loose. “I’m here.”

Those close by watch on, confused, but unwilling to interrupt as it seems the action calms her. She settles and much to everyone’s clear relief the coughing eases to a steady heavy wheeze.

Cullen can feel her squeezing and while her grip is not overly strong it gives him hope, she is not willing to let go. He looks to Mother Giselle. “What do we do?”

“There is nothing more we can do,” she replies. “It is up to the will of the Maker now.”

“What? There must be something,” his eyes harden, refusing to believe what he’s hearing.

“Keep her warm, reassure her and pray. Have faith Commander, her will is strong.”

He hangs his head. That was not the practical answer he had hoped for. “Thank you, revered mother,” he said closing his eyes, the chant of light already forming in his mind.

“I will be here if you need me,” she said, nodding then moving off along with the healer and the roused companions.

Cassandra remained for a moment. “The Herald is a remarkable woman,” she said. “If anyone can survive this, it is her.”

He nods lightly, taking her comforting words on board, he senses her leave and within a few moments he’s alone with Annabel once more. He watches the rise and fall of her lungs, vision blank to the rest of the world as he prays for her. Exhaustion eventually sets in and he is forced to shut his heavy eyes, although he still sits perched by her side, his hand curled around hers.

Such small hands he’d noted, not seemingly the hands of a warrior at all, he’s pondering on how she manages to wield a blade when he feels her stir next to him.

“There was so much blood…Why was there so much?” Annabel mumbles and he sighs heavily, although at least she’s able to speak without coughing. “Why is it still so cold…”

His thumb rubs her hand, reminding her he is there with a subtle gesture.

“She’s not coming back is she?” Annabel asks her voice small.

“No,” he replies gently. “But I’m here.” He can feel her fingers rub back through his gloves.

“Thank you,” she said. “Please, can you hold me? Like she did?”

The request is so pure he feels his heart crack once more. Its wholly inappropriate and he rejects it on instinct. However, the revered mother’s words echo in his head. Keep her warm and reassure her, plus then he’d also know she was safe…He’s worn out and frozen to the core, the offer not only to lie down, but to lie down with her curled beside him is a temptation like none his ever known. Save maybe once…but still professionalism holds him back.

“Annabel…I don’t think-“

She releases his hand and rolls over, shifting to the edge of the bed, seemingly to make space for him, the effort brings out a slight cough. “Please,” she said her voice straining. “Cullen.”

At the sound of his name his eyes widen slightly. He’d assumed she thought he was Bryan, he glances briefly around and wonders if he’s heard her correctly.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs her voice fading. “I just-“ her words are broken by coughing and promptly he lays down beside her, propped up on his elbow while his other hand rests on her back.

“It’s alright,” he rubs through the layers and her chest eases. He can see no harm in indulging her until she falls back to sleep so he decides to remain there, for now.

 

The bustle of the camp filters through and he groans at the disturbance. He’s warm and comfortable with no desire to stir. His cheek is resting against something soft, and as more of his senses return to him he realises one arm and leg are curled around the delicate curves of a woman. He smiles faintly to himself, content, until a spark of realisation hits him.

Opening his eyes he finds his nose is buried in Annabel’s hair and his body draped over her. Abruptly he sits up into the frigid morning air, dawn has just broken, and blinking in the pale light he soon spots Mother Giselle observing silently from close by.

He glances back to Annabel who rolls at the disturbance, her leg looping over his and hand resting on his chest, with a panic he shoves her away. She groans distastefully but doesn’t stir as he promptly gets up.

“I was just…” he pauses, trying to find the right thing to explain the situation and rubbing the back of his neck as nerves kick in.

“Do not fret child,” Mother Gisele smiles softly at him.

Still he feels the burning need to justify his behaviour. “She was cold…she asked me…” he sighs heavily. “I just wanted to do what was best, for her, that is all.” He glances back to Annabel.

She has snuggled into his cloak in the warm spot he’s left behind and it hits him. That really was all he wanted. To help her, to protect her, to comfort her, whatever it took to see her smile again. _Maker’s breath he was in over his head_. “You won’t say anything, will you?” He asks turning back to the revered mother.

“My lips are sealed,” she said, nodding her head lightly to him with a glint of knowing in her eye which throws him a little off balance.

Still her words are reassuring. “Good,” he sighs, relaxing a fraction, he hears a cough and spins back to Annabel. She’s now sitting up, hand over her mouth trying to catch her breath once more. “Annabel? Are you alright?” His question is cautious, half expecting more nonsense, but she gives him a little nod and takes the water skin Giselle swiftly hands her.

“Not going to lie,” she rasps a little laugh. “I’ve been better…” she rubs her hands against her face, clearly groggy and when they settle back into his fur mantle she stares at it for a moment, then back up at him. “Thank you, Cullen…” she said, eyes and small smile so sincere he feels warmth blossom in his chest despite the chill and fog of his breath.

“Your welcome, Annabel.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading - kudos and comments are love :D


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